


Savour The Season

by Anonymous



Category: Captain America (Movies) RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Adorable Manchildren, Autumn, Coffee, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fall v. Winter Coffee Selections, Fluff, Fond Banter, M/M, Peppermint Mocha, Pumpkin Spice Latte, Red Cup Culture, Seasonal Coffee Flavours, Slice of Life, Starbucks, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 15:51:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5169587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s just re-memorized the lines and divots of the backs of Chris’s teeth, just started sucking on Chris’s tongue when he realizes it: wrong. So very fucking <i>wrong</i>.</p><p>He flinches back, eyes wide with flat-out betrayal.</p><p>“What the <i>fuck</i>?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Savour The Season

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luninosity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luninosity/gifts).



> At one point, a while ago, somewhere or another, [luninosity](http://archiveofourown.org/users/luninosity) mentioned an idle desire of seasonal-themed fic. Here is a little something to maybe fill that need.

It’s all rain and muggy, sticky bullshit outside, to be honest, and watching the water droplets crash and fall down the windowpanes is mesmerizing, sure. His head’s getting a little fuzzy from the way his neck’s crooked over the armrest of the sofa, all blood rushing and settling for the way he’s sprawled, but it’s whatever, really. 

He doesn’t even register the creak of the door, or the approach of footsteps, until the signature red cup it thrust into view: upside down and fucking gorgeous and Sebastian knows his grin will like like a frown at this angle to the man who’s holding that cup, so he sits up fast and ignores the dizziness that follows.

“You’re a perfect specimen of humanity,” he purrs, grasping the cup and reaching out his other hand to ruffle Chris’s damp locks into artful touseledness. “I fucking love you.”

“You fucking love your nasty venter cups of high fructose corn syrup,” Chris snarks back, nodding at the drink, but he leans into Sebastian’s touch, and he has as cup of his own in hand, so Sebastian doesn’t think much on it, to be honest.

“Vent _i_ , you pleb.” Sebastian scrunches Chris’s hair so it stands straight up, as punishment.

It’s fucking adorable, of course. Goddamnit. 

“I say large, they give me this.” Chris shrugs.

“You _don’t_.” Sebastian gapes, because no, no: Sebastian hasn’t dedicated his fucking life to a person who _orders a large at Starbucks_ , no.

“I know.” Chris sighs, all exaggerated mocking. “Fucking scandalous.”

“You’re an embarrassment.” Sebastian shakes his head, and drowns his sorrows in a long sip that’s mostly foam and whip.

“ _You’re_ disgusting.” Chris smiles ever so slightly, though, as he leans over and wipes the foam-stache from Sebastian’s upper lip, before licking it off the tip of his finger. 

“Lies,” Sebastian parries, glancing meaningfully at the drink in Chris’s hand. “I’ve converted you.”

“Shut up,” Chris grumbles, though his cheeks pinken, and Sebastian could not possibly be more in love if he tried. “Didn’t make sense to come home and just make a pot of coffee for one person.”

“We have a fucking Keurig, Chris.”

“Shut _up_.”

And Sebastian just laughs, because god. _God_.

This man.

“Mmm,” Sebastian hums as he gets to the pumpkin spice goodness of the actual coffee beneath the trimmings. “Still got the fall drinks, thank god.”

“Yeah,” Chris chimes in, deadpan. “Lest the world fall into chaos.”

Sebastian is decidedly not going to comment on that blatant disrespect. He’s just not. 

“I’m just not on board with this whole jump-into-winter thing,” Sebastian gestures with his cup-in-hand -- and he’s okay with the simple red-gradient, because it can still be _fall_ in his head until the proper time, without all the snowflakes and santa hats and what-the-fuck-not. “Fall’s a good season, and it lasts through Thanksgiving. Give it its goddamn due.” 

He drinks deep again, and licks the foam from his upper lip on his own, this time. But if he watches Chris with hot intent -- watches Chris _watching_ him as he licks, slow and thorough -- no one can blame him, really.

“No Christmas flavors until Black Friday,” Sebastian finally sums up, impassioned. “That’s the fucking law, man. Sacred shit and whatever.”

“Mmmm,” Chris hums. Sebastian gets the distinct impression it’s more indulgence than agreement, but he’ll take that, too. 

“Come here,” he reaches out and grabs Chris’s wrist. “You deserve a reward.”

“Do I?”

“It’s pouring out there, and you went to get me coffee.”

Sebastian snakes his hand from wrist to chest to neck, and yanks Chris down hard and fast to mouth against his lips:

“And you know how I love my coffee.”

“I do,” Chris breathes out, pupils dilating fast.

“Multiply it by a factor of a whole-fucking-lot,” Sebastian murmurs, mouth tracing the outline of Chris’s lips leisurely, tenderly. “And that’s how much I love you.”

Chris chuckles. “That sugar’s going to your head.”

Sebastian tilts his head, considering. “Maybe.”

He dives in, claims Chris’s mouth either way.

He’s just re-memorized the lines and divots of the backs of Chris’s teeth, just started sucking on Chris’s tongue when he realizes it: wrong. So very fucking _wrong_.

He flinches back, eyes wide with flat-out betrayal.

“What the _fuck_?”

Chris is still breathless, a little, because Sebastian kisses like he means it, ever time, but his eyes are starting to frown long before his mouth can move to match.

“Traitor!” Sebastian levels a finger at him, pointing him out, identifying him as a fucking turncoat. “That is a peppermint mocha served out-of-season that I taste on your tongue, Christopher, and don’t you even try to deny it.”

Chris blinks, chest rising and falling with a more even cadence, now, breath caught back as he takes in Sebastian’s accusation, lets it settle for an instant before he snorts, undignified as fuck.

“You’re absurd,” Chris shakes his head, but leans in and kisses Sebastian long and deep, all candy-cane and chocolate and _wrong_ even while it’s so right, and Sebastian doesn’t stop him, he doesn’t.

Because Sebastian is _weak_.

“You’re an active part of the scheme to eliminate autumn entirely,” Sebastian tells him seriously, but it doesn’t carry much weight as Chris keeps nipping around Sebastian’s mouth. “I can’t believe it. I _cannot_ believe it.”

“Is it not e-fucking-nough that I bought the damned thing and am drinking it and not wincing every five seconds for how it’s going to give me diabetes?” Chris asks, brown quirked.

And maybe it is. Maybe.

Probably not, because _sacred shit and whatever_ , but. Maybe.

“You’re young,” Sebastian finally decides, showing mercy. “You’re young and foolish, and such a coffee-novice, I almost pity you.” He sighs, billowingly, heavy and lamenting and Chris just grins wider for it, which maybe was the point. “But I appreciate the attempt, and so, this time.”

Sebastian leans in and licks around the inside of Chris’s mouth like it’s his solemn duty, his only reason for being in the world. Chris moans in that obscene way of his, and if this _were_ the only reason Sebastian had for being in the world, he thinks, well, that’d be okay.

“This time, I’m gonna let it slide,” he murmurs into Chris’s swollen lips, before nipping, once more, and tasting mint and mocha still thick like creme:

“Next time, you won’t be so lucky.”


End file.
